


Do You Wanna Touch

by chibiVeneficus



Category: Brave Police J-Decker
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, Light Petting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16785802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiVeneficus/pseuds/chibiVeneficus
Summary: Deckerd honestly wasn’t sure what drew his attention to them in the first place. All he knew was that once he noticed, he couldn’t /not/ notice. They shined under harsh florescence, dazzled when touched by the sun, gleamed when the moon peeked between clouds. Like the ill-fated night insects lured by the electric lamp in Yuuta’s backyard, Deckerd couldn’t resist being drawn in by their brilliance.And Gunmax knew.





	Do You Wanna Touch

Despite Drill Boy’s protests on the contrary, paperwork was a necessity in the Brave Police’s line of work. Every step of a case, from witness reports to how the Braves responded to the situation, had to be written up and filed. It was repetitive, often tedious work that had to be done, but Deckerd enjoyed doing it. It was satisfying going over the steps he and his team had taken to identify, track down, confront and, more often than not, arrest the culprit.

He was often the first done with his reports and therefore the first to turn in when he wasn’t on night patrol, but tonight was proving to be the exception. An unfortunate accident downtown involving a napping Power Joe, an expired parking meter and an overzealous police officer attempting to use a tire clamp had resulted in Deckerd having to stay late sorting out the fines Power Joe’s indignation had cost the department while the backhoe helped cleaned the mess he’d made.

He wasn’t alone as he calculated what could be forgone that month to help cover the unexpected expense; Gunmax sat across the aisle and worked his way through the myriad of miscellaneous forms that needed to be filed before end of day. The biker had drawn the short straw for night shift, and while he had grumbled with being stuck with ‘secretary duty,’ he’d buckled down and got to work.

It had been a pleasant surprise for Deckerd to learn that Gunmax was as diligent at paperwork as he was tracking down villains. While he could be a little too gung-ho, his contributions to the team outweighed the trouble he found. And aside from his maddening attitude from time to time, it was nice to have Gunmax around.

Deckerd had also noticed that Gunmax had really nice legs. He stole an automatic glance at them at that thought.

Gunmax tended to have his legs crossed to the side while he worked, his foot tapping a silent beat in the air. It wouldn’t be so noticeable if a glint from the overhead lights didn’t flash along the edges of his foot, angled perfectly to shine in Deckerd’s field of vision. Deckerd would think that Gunmax was doing it on purpose to annoy him but there were no chuckles or smirks to give the game away. As far as Deckerd could tell, Gunmax was oblivious to how he distracting he was being; Deckerd wanted to keep it that way.

“Like what you see?” Gunmax asked, a smirk on his face and the syllables teasing. Deckerd guiltily snapped his eyes back up having not realized that they had drifted back to Gunmax’s legs while he‘d been lost in thought about them.

Well, there went Gunmax not knowing.

“Yes-- no-- I mean,” Deckerd’s hands waved in the air, trying in vain to grasp a polite and safe answer. His super AI chip felt like it would combust from the mortification of being caught staring. He was so glad they were the only ones in the Decker Room at the moment. “I mean, I thought I saw something but it must have been a trick of the light.”

Instead shrugging off the weak excuse and going back to slogging through paperwork like Deckerd desperately hoped he would do, Gunmax tilted his head, considering, and then stretched out in his seat. Deckerd didn’t think it was possible to gracefully sprawl in an office chair but Gunmax had apparently mastered that art sometime between patrolling the highway and taking down criminals.

“Oh, really.” Gunmax casually crossed his ankles. Deckerd automatically tracked the movement and found it extremely difficult to look away. He somehow managed to do so, but only as far as the wheels of Gunmax’s chair.

“Really!”

Gunmax leaned even further back, his body barely in contact with his chair now as he lounged on the office furniture. The bright fluorescent lights of the room highlighted the curves of his calves and Deckerd realized his eyes were once again locked-on to the white expansive of long, _long_ legs.

He tried to look away again, really, he did, but it was now an impossible feat to accomplish. The simple, elegant lines of the biker’s legs, so different from everyone else’s, drew his gaze up, up over a shiny expanse of smooth curves and pristine wax. There was no wheels to break up the leg’s silhouette, no rigid guidelines that spoke of a vehicle form. They were so different from his and the Build Team’s utilitarian designs. A true feat of beautiful engineering.

Deckerd gulped.

So busy was Deckerd in his quiet ogling and stammered excuses he missed the predatory look Gunmax leveled on him. While he was distracted, Gunmax schooched his chair over and plopped his legs onto Deckerd’s lap.

“Guh-Gunmax!” Deckerd’s hands flailed, wanting to grab something for balance but too afraid that he’d grab Gunmax’s legs.

Gunmax looked like the proverbial cat that had the canary at its mercy. He used his legs to leverage himself even closer, their chairs colliding as the biker made himself at home in Deckerd’s personal space.

“Come on, boy scout.”

Gunmax raised a leg and dropped it on Deckerd’s shoulder.

“Someone could walk in!” It was a last desperate plea that held no weight because his hands were already on shiny white shins. They were as smooth as he’d imagined them to be. Deckerd’s trembling fingers ran down their length, mesmerized by the play of light across their waxed expanse.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re too worried about that possibility.”

Deckerd _was_ worried, but not worried enough to stop. He tried to formulate another protest but it died between one stroke and the next. There was no point in trying to stop what they both wanted.

Gunmax hummed in approval at the touches, shifting into a more stable position that ended with him more in Deckerd’s lap than in his chair. His other leg bent and wedged itself in-between Deckerd’s thigh and the armrest. Deckerd was trapped but felt no inclination to free himself.

“There,” Gunmax murmured as Deckerd traced the edges of his ankle leading to the bridge of his foot.

Had it been hot in the Decker Room before? Deckerd felt his core temperature steadily rising as his fingers continued to explore, static building in his circuits without any return action from his partner. It was ridiculous how Gunmax could get him so bothered with barely any effort.

A hum of approval morphed into a gasp as Deckerd slipped a careful fingertip into a transformation seam to rub across hidden servos. It was delightful to hear Gunmax voice break into static when he pushed _here_ , a groan every time he rubbed _there_. He played his fingers like he was holding a musical instrument, each stroke producing beautiful notes from Gunmax’s vocalizer.

His right hand palmed down further, crossing the great expanse of white to curve along the knee guard as he left kept strumming out notes. White gave way to grey, curved lines to straight, his palm running down flat planes that quivered in its wake. His hand went slow, so slow he was starting to tease himself. He wrung a choked gasp from Gunmax as his fingers slid over a mountain of green, reaching for --

“Deckerd,” came a voice from around the Decker Room’s open entrance, “do you have --”

Something _shoved_ the back of his chair and Deckerd went tumbling backwards with a clatter and a surprised yelp.

“Is everything alright?” McCrane asked, pausing at the threshold to take in the patrol car spilled all over the floor.

“YES!” Deckerd jumped to his feet. He desperately hoped his blush would be written off as one of embarrassment. “O-one of the wheels on my chair must have broke. I’m fine.” He laughed, hoped it didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. “What did you need, McCrane?”

The skepticism on McCrane’s face was quickly replaced by a carefully cultivated neutral mask that he used in front of press crowds and whenever Miss Onoue asked him something he wasn’t prepared to answer. Deckerd knew he was busted but McCrane’s professionalism gave him a precious moment to gather himself.

“I find that I am in need of assistance with handling some of the sensitive equipment from the last case. Do you mind?”

“Of course I don’t, I’d be happy to help. One moment.” Deckerd shuffled the papers on his desk to help appear that yes, he had been diligently working and not petting his coworker’s legs, why would you think that. Papers neatly stacked, he went to push his chair in only to realize it was still lying on the floor. He awkwardly picked it up and shoved it under his desk.

“Shall we?” Deckerd asked.

As he followed McCrane out, Deckerd chanced a glance at Gunmax.

Gunmax was back at his desk, filling in checkboxes and looking completely unfazed by Deckerd feeling him up just moments ago. Deckerd was flustered all over again by how nonchalant the biker was playing. He wondered how on earth Gunmax could remain so collected.

Gunmax must have been watching him from the safety of his shades. The biker turned just enough that his smirk showed. It promised there would be more in the future.

“Have fun, patrol car.”

Deckerd hoped it wasn’t possible for super AI chips to combust from sheer embarrassment.

**Author's Note:**

> i might write another chapter where there's actual nooky but this stands alone well enough.


End file.
